GOING HOME

GOING HOME
This train ride is long, too long.
Seem to have spent most of my life on it
In and out of tunnels.
The glaring brightness of the stations
No reflections in windows there -
Brief interludes between long tunnels.
We plunge into another dark tube and
See reflection of face with red hat in window
People crowding too close
But shut eyes and think own thoughts
Of when I was younger, fitter.
I still look out of thirty year old eyes;
But reverie is interrupted by
A young girl who taps my sleeve
And offers her seat
To a sixty year old man in a red hat
Standing in front of her eyes.
Early in the trip I mostly refused such seats
But am glad of them now
As the final tunnel approaches
And the train pulls into the terminal -
And I’m glad of the quiet in the carriage
On my way home.